


teenage hormones (young complexion)

by betakids (orphan_account)



Series: college au! [2]
Category: Hotel Artemis (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Modern Era, Morning Sex, Short & Sweet, idk what this is lmao, supposed to be two longer fics but frankensteined into one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/betakids
Summary: His thing with Niagara is embarrassing.First and foremost.





	teenage hormones (young complexion)

**Author's Note:**

> i wasnt gonna post this but! shrug emoji. i love my boys! the second part of this is from a fic that i had up but didnt like and deleted? so if its familiar thats why (title is from norgaard by the vaccines)
> 
> anyway. i still think about them every day. check out @sadscorpios niapulco college au also it ENCHANTS me

His thing with Niagara is embarrassing.    
  
First and foremost.    
  
And that’s mostly because of the very nature of it all, the fact that it’s  _ Niagara _ . Orian Franklin. Who’s probably in some sort of championship league for being a tremendous asshole, the man has to be at least winning some type of award.    
  
But, as it stands, he still winds up in his bed at the end of the night either way. Not necessarily for sex. Usually for sex, though. But the fact that he can even  _ justify _ sleeping between Niagara’s concerningly stained, target-brand, blue-gray sheets is probably the most worrying element of it all. He was perfectly fine until their little arrangement took a hard, sentimental turn left.    
  
Pulco groans, then fidgets, then rolls over and presses his face into the aforementioned sheets. And he was never particularly into the scent to begin with- it’s the unfortunate, unwashed product of three years of old spice, strawberry lube, and a recent spill of fucking  _ bong water _ \- but it’s started to grow on him. Like a fungus. That’s what Niagara is, really, an  _ unreasonably _ sexy fungus that manages to make scratching his fucking happy trail over cereal some measure of  _ attractive _ .    
  
Niagara is laying belly down on the bed somewhere perpendicular to Pulco, with his (long, so long they set off alarm bells in his head) legs dangling off the edge and his torso across Pulco’s lap, weighing him down. Pulco makes a small huff under his breath and Niagara uses that moment to turn the page of his weird book that he’s sure is some contrived, convoluted, pretentious  _ examination _ of Nietzsche and his who fucking  _ cares- _ so Pulco huffs again, louder.    
  
And it’s not like it even matters, because he doesn’t really care if Niagara puts down his book to talk to him anyway. He doesn’t. Cross his heart.    
  
He pokes Niagara in the side, and relishes the lazy way the man flips over in his lap as a response, stretching his long arms over his head like a cat and letting the book dangle from  his stupidly  _ elegant  _ piano-player fingers, all lightly. His shirt rides up over his midriff and Pulco barely notices when he reaches down to place his hands on the exposed strip of skin, running his thumbs over the flat of Niagara’s stomach. Niagara has his eyes squeezed shut, but he cracks one open to stare Pulco down when he touches him and just the simple look- one eyebrow raised, and  _ jesus _ , his eyes are still so dark and mysterious and  _ tumultuous  _ like the cliche protagonist of a soap opera- makes his stomach do cartwheels. 

“Talk to me,” Pulco- not whines, because he’s not whiny- says, “Forget Nietzsche.” 

“It’s pronounced Niet- _ chuh _ ,” Niagara says. Pulco tries to physically wrestle down the urge to roll his eyes but he does it anyway, and that gets a snort from Niagara. That’s another reason Pulco can’t believe that they’ve kept this thing going for so long- it’s gotten so bad that he’s come to enjoy having his grammatical errors pointed out. 

Niagara sighs, and brings his free hand up to run his fingertips lightly over the back of Pulco’s hand, letting the book drop out of his grip onto the floor in the other. He shifts side to side to find a more comfortable position, almost melting into the mattress, the stiff lines to his body all softening at once. 

“You look so sexy like this,” Niagara says. Or like,  _ lies _ , because Pulco has his hair pushed back by a headband and he’s in fuzzy pajama bottoms that are pink with a  _ turtle print _ , and definitely designed for someone with longer legs so they pool around his ankles. 

 

“Am I?” 

“You’re horribly sexy. Totally, terribly-“ 

Pulco considers shoving a hand in his face, but instead chooses to lean back and absorb the praise and try to look like he’s not preening  _ all  _ too much. He’s sure that Niagara is laughing at him whenever he gets all smug about the compliments, but he doesn’t even  _ care _ , something about Niagara appreciating him makes him all tingly. “Go on?” 

 

And Niagara  _ snorts  _ at that, out loud. His whole face crinkles up when he does. “The way those big brown eyes stare up at me… They’re the money makers, you know, it’s-“ 

“The-  _ What  _ in the world are you saying?” 

 

Niagara shrugs lazily in lieu of responding, he flips Pulco’s hand over and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a small kiss into the palm of it. Pulco  _ shivers _ , full body. Oh, he hates the man, he really does, resents him for the things he makes him feel. 

“You’re  _ embarrassing _ ,” Pulco whispers, suddenly light, not moving his hand and instead cradling Niagara’s face, “You’re- You’re evil. You made me watch Saw and wouldn’t admit it was only because you like when I hide in your chest. You  _ spit _ on me. You make me answer  _ trivia  _ so you’ll bend down and let me kiss you.” 

Niagara flicks out his tongue and spares a moment to lick Pulco’s thumb, then to laugh at the way he grimaces in response. “You sound rather uh, unappreciative there. Everything you mentioned sounds an  _ excellent _ quality to have in a partner.” 

 

“See but like,  _ you _ would say that.” 

“Important trivia: In the first Saw movie…” 

 

-

 

Pulco makes a high-pitched, open-mouthed moan into the crook of Niagara’s shoulder. 

 

It’s- Unfamiliar, maybe. And it’s like, last night they had done the shit that they normally do, so this shouldn’t be any fucking  _ different _ . Pulco remembers it in vivid snapshots, in flashes of images like a film reel. 

 

(Niagara pulling his hips up with one hand and pressing his face into the mattress with the other, the feeling of the wet spot of drool and tears Pulco had made on the sheets against his cheek, the way Niagara’s hips stutter their way to his climax. Pulco gasps, his hands scrabble at the sheets by his head as Niagara makes a low, punched-out moan. Niagara leaning over him to  _ bite  _ at his neck. Niagara whispering things in his ear that are- are degrading, offensive,  _ mean,  _ Pulco not registering it but shivering from the feeling of breath on his sweat-slick skin anyway.)  

 

It’s not really like that, not right now. The light from outside is filtering through Niagara’s half-rolled window blinds, and the morning atmosphere does something really special to Niagara’s  _ face.  _ His room is all cluttered but it’s become startlingly familiar to Pulco these days, it’s something comforting when he cracks his eyes open and sees it through his lashes. The mattress is really lumpy against his back, but it’s warm and has the bonus of a  _ beautiful  _ boy on it who sleeps in nothing but sweatpants. They might actually be the sweatpants that started this whole mess for Pulco. Niagara’s curls glow in the light, and transform from the dark blob they normally are to something a little more coppery. It takes all of Pulco’s willpower not to reach down at pull the stray pieces of his hair out of his face where they’re resting across the curve of his brow or tickling at his cheekbones. He’s so- so  _ gorgeous  _ when he sleeps. When he’s awake, too. 

 

Because his eyes are wider and just this one degree brighter than they normally are, half lidded- Niagara seems content and hazy and lazy. Even the way he breathes is slower and  _ gentler _ , he does it like a  _ kitten.  _ Pulco had woke up with their legs intertwined and the man’s dumb, lanky arms slung all the way around his waist, a thumb idly moving and tracing little circles into his skin. It had just- He can’t explain it. 

 

He presses the line of his nose against Niagara’s cheek and  _ gasps,  _ loving the feeling of his  _ hands  _ placed on the dip of his waist, pushing up underneath the big gray hoodie Pulco’s wearing. Idly, he thinks that between Niagara’s sweatpants that have now found themselves bunched up somewhere around the guys knees, and the big sweatshirt engulfing Pulco- they could have one outfit. It’s kinda funny. 

 

(Last night, again. Niagara fucking into his mouth, feeling the way his throat flutters and holding him down, holding him down to the  _ root  _ and letting him choke for one, two, three seconds too long until he feels like it’s  _ dangerous.  _ Niagara yanking Pulco off of him at the last second, holding him- who’s shivering, shaking in place like a fucking  _ leaf,  _ with mouth slack and eyes distant and precum and spit coating his lips- steady by the firm hand twisting in his hair until it hurts and coming over the mess he made.) 

 

The movements Niagara’s making are tentative, as he fucks up into him. Hesitant. Pulco’s straddling him with thighs splayed out on either side of him and now that he’s fully seated they're just rocking, slowly, so slowly it should be almost  _ painful  _ and  _ teasing  _ but instead it’s just- He doesn’t have the fucking words to name it. He makes a noise that’s half a whimper, half a moan into Niagara’s face. They’re not kissing but they’re close together and Pulco’s tilting his head and their lips are touching and brushing against each other as each small movement rocks them closer. 

 

It’s warm. Sticky. Too quiet. It’s never been this quiet before. Pulco splays both hands out on Niagara’s chest to steady himself and he needs to actually throw his head back and catch his  _ breath,  _ even though they’re not fucking doing  _ anything.  _ He makes the mistake of cracking his eyes open and now that he’s this far back he can just  _ look  _ at Niagara and it makes heart lurch up into his throat and nearly break. Because Niagara has his back propped up against the wall. He’s debauched. His hair is messier than it was waking up, he’s still soft, he’s still pretty, he still has a beauty mark under his mouth. But he looks distant and pleased, overwhelmed, his shoulders are shaking and the hands at Pulco’s waist are grabbing at him a little  _ desperately.  _ When Niagara takes a breath, he opens his eyes too, and shoots Pulco a half-smile that makes his heart hurt again. His heart hurts. It really does. 

 

“Are you-” Pulco swallows. Shifts his hips just a bit lower and they both gasp at the same time. His mouth is dry. “I mean is this- is it-” 

 

“It’s good. It’s really- I like it. I like you.” Niagara murmurs. And the way he says it is airy, bubbly. Light-hearted. Pulco can feel the vibration of his words through the hands he has placed his chest. 

 

He doesn’t know if he can respond so he leans close, he presses a kiss to Niagara’s eyelid, and he starts to move in earnest. 

 

(Niagara in this position but in a different way, jerking Pulco up and down on his cock with the grip he has on his hips. Niagara pushing his own cum back into Pulco’s hole with the pad of his thumb and calling him pretty. Niagara leaving him fucked out and semi-conscious, wrecked and limp and tear stained. Niagara leaving fingerprint shaped bruises on Pulco’s thighs. Niagara licking up Pulco’s throat while three fingers deep in him. Niagara laughing in his face. Niagara spitting in his mouth. Niagara just like-) 

 

“You li-i-i-ke me,” Pulco whispers, sing-song. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> twit: @weedsbian
> 
> tumblr: driftcompvtible
> 
> strictly HA tumblr: niapulco


End file.
